Beauty and The Best (Once-Upon-A-Time Romance) (19 page)

That’d be one thing that was.

***

Jolie’s face felt as if it was on fire, her breathing was shallow, and her hands were trembling. Not exactly her normal state of being. Before meeting Todd Best, that was. Now? Who knew? It seemed trembling appendages were to be a daily occurrence
chez
Best.

Somehow she managed to direct the tremblages (her just-coined term) to a chair and plunked herself in it across from Todd. Let the feasting begin. Of the palate… and the eyes.

“
Where are we taking the paintings?” one of the workmen asked, thankfully yanking her musings from the place they had no business going.

“
To the office. Mike will let you know what he wants where.” Todd helped himself to the fixings for his burger, cocking an eyebrow her way at the scored rind on the pickle. “More garnishing? Cute.”

“
It’s what I do best.”

“
Now there’s a damn shame,” one of the other guys mocked with a suggestive waggle of eyebrows. “Garnishing ain’t high on the list of priorities for my women.”

“
Jolie works for me,” Todd snapped back.

“
Oooo-kay.” Scumm-o snickered.

“
Look here—” Todd leaned forward in his chair.

“
Luigi.” The foreman smacked the table. “Knock it off, will ya? Keep yer trap shut or you’re fired. Don’t go insulting the boss, ya moron.” He looked at Jolie and tipped a non-existent hat. “My apologies, ma’am.”

“
That’s okay.” It actually wasn’t, but with Todd defending her honor, she didn’t really need to make a big deal out of it.

Him defending her on the other hand… Naughty Girl was all over that.

Scumbucket scowled and the foreman jumped to his feet. “Guys, let’s take these with us and finish up. We’ll be out of your hair then, Mr. Best. Ma’am.”

The other guy also whipped to his feet, while Luigi Scumbucket took his sweet time schlepping to his, then the three of them headed back to the Land of Attic.

“
They didn’t need to leave,” Jolie said to Todd. “I guess Luigi just thought he was being funny. In a chauvinistic, condescending sort of way.”

“
There’s no excuse for that sort of innuendo.” Todd balled up his napkin and tossed it onto the table.

“
True. But you didn’t have to say anything. I was okay.” Jolie unrolled an ear of corn, the sweet smell of melted butter rising in the air.

“
Why? Why is it reasonable to assume a woman who cooks dinner is fair game for snide comments and insinuations? Maybe where you come from, but I’ve always been taught to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when someone does something nice for me. That jerk—” Todd thumbed back in the direction of the garage—“doesn’t have a clue.”

It was the “where you come from” line that snagged her. Actually, yeah, where she came from she couldn’t expect much better than a Luigi Scumbucket. But Todd didn’t need to know that. And she really didn’t want to think about the differences in their worlds at the moment.

“
So, good hamburger?” she asked, trying to keep it business-like and not notice that they were all alone with the twilight wrapping around them, soft, flickering lights playing over the planes of his face and those broad shoulders while nature’s cricket orchestra serenaded them.

“
Huh? Oh. Yeah.” He took a bite and she tried not to stare at his mouth.

But, man, was it hard not to. She’d never particularly noticed men’s mouths before, but his had a nice shape to it, the bottom lip fuller than the top, slight up-curve to the ends. His teeth were straight and white and then there was his tongue—

“
Good!” She cleared her throat and refolded her napkin, then swept it back over her lap. “I, uh, made a ton of them.” She set her knife and fork square to the plate. “More than we’ll ever need.” She readjusted her glass of iced tea. “Lots. We can freeze some for another day and I thought I might give some to—”

“
Go ahead, Jolie. Feel free to donate them to the foundation. You don’t need my permission. The kids will love them.” A long swallow of iced tea went down his throat and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the column of muscle.

Until he lowered the glass; then self-preservation kicked in.

“
I’ve got a question for you.” He placed the glass on the table, his fingers mere inches from hers.

She reined in her digits. No meandering pinkies for her. “Shoot.”

“
You mentioned something the other day about sixteen-year-old unwed mothers? Kids like you? What did you mean?”

“
Oh, you don’t really want to hear that.” She flipped her ponytail back over her shoulder and turned her head.

“
Actually, I do. I can’t reconcile the image of you homeless and you now.”

“
Now?” She slid a glance back at him.

“
Yes, now. You’ve got a career, you’re smart, funny, adaptable.”

“
Adaptable?” That had her turning back to face him full-on.

“
You handled that uncomfortable scene at Barb and Mike’s last night. What else would you call it?”

She shrugged. “Desperate?”

He laughed and she loved that sound, deep and joyous and masculine, and it touched every cell in her body. She could listen to him laugh forever.

Uh oh
. She did
not
just say the “F” word.

She couldn’t have. There was no such thing as
forever
. She knew. Firsthand. Nothing lasted “F,” except in the pages of a book.

“
Funny,” Todd interjected—thank goodness—into her path down Misery Lane. “But seriously, Jolie, were you homeless?”

Mr. Dog-With-A-Bone was obviously not going to let it go. She’d go for the short and not-so-pitiful version—the one that answered the questions and moved the conversation on. She’d developed it early in her house-hopping career.

“
Depends on what you mean by homeless.” She shrugged to show it wasn’t such a big deal. Eighteen years ago, yeah, big deal. Now? Not so much. “I had a home, just not my own. Actually, I had a lot of homes.”

“
Foster care?”

She nodded and wrapped her hands around her iced tea, the sweat on the glass sliding under her palms. “It wasn’t so bad.” If you liked loneliness, being an outsider, and not having a family to call your own. But she was over it. Really.

“
What about your parents?”

God, it was like pulling teeth. “Dad’s a question mark and Mom made some ill-advised choices. Gone, both of them. Probably for the best if those first ten years were anything to go by.”

“
How did you make it out of the system?” He touched her, just one fingertip to the fine hairs on the back of her hand, but she felt it. All the way to her toes.

He had to stop. She could get through this without crying as long as she said it flat out. Have him show compassion and she’d be a mush puddle.

So she took a drink of the iced tea and sat back in the chair, far from fine hairs and tempting fingers. “I decided I was not going to repeat the mistake of my genetics. I studied, worked hard and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“
That’s an admirable story.”

“
That’s me, Admirable Jolie.” She tipped her glass to him in salute.

His eyes narrowed. “You’ve certainly got a lot of attributes, Good-sport Jolie, Ambitious Jolie, Admirable Jolie. What about Happy Jolie?”

Okay, enough psychoanalysis there, Dr. Phil. “Well, sure. I mean, where I am now sure as heck beats where I started. There was nowhere to go but up anyhow. Life is good.”

“
So that’s why you took me up on my offer to bake for the kids. You’ve been there.”

She nodded. “But even if I hadn’t, I’d still want to help. It’s a great cause. Those kids need more people like you.”

Those
kids
?
You were one of them, at one time
.

Out of my head, Naughty Girl
.

“
That’s good to hear because your chocolate chip cookies are going to be in demand.”

Oh, he was smooth. She slid a sideways glance his way. “Care to define ‘in demand’? Just how many cookies am I going to be making?”

“
A couple hundred—”

“
Oh, well, that’s not so bad—”

“—
dozen.”

“
A couple hundred
dozen
?” Mr. Jolly was getting his jollies on this one. Okay, smart guy, two could play that game. “Boy, I’m going to be able to stay here until the next millennium for that amount of work.”

“
Hey, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. You know that.”

“
But what happens if my life expectancy doesn’t match my cookie-credit ratio?” She bit her lip, enjoying the teasing. It reminded her of Mike and Barbara.

Todd’s sigh was oh-so-dramatic and he rubbed his hand across his chin. She couldn’t look away as his palm rasped against the five o’clock shadow just below the surface and she could only imagine what that would feel like against her cheek.

That’s right, Jolie. Only imagine it, ’cause that’s as close to his skin as your cheek’s going to get
.

“
You’re right.” He tapped that full bottom lip. “It’s not possible to balance the scale of work versus cookie credits. You’re going to need help.”

“
Help?”

“
Of course. I can’t expect you to spend all your waking time baking, so why not? I’ve made cookies before.”

Hmm, had she been angling for that? She wasn’t supposed to make up ways to spend time with him, but apparently Heart had stopped listening to Brain and decided to work on autopilot.

Of course, Brain, not one to be left out, then directed Mouth to say, “Okay then. I’ll go out tomorrow and get enough ingredients to make the puffiest, most chocolate-y chips you’ve ever tasted.”

“
Somehow I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Hey, the guy really did get her after all.

And,
yeah
, Naughty Girl chimed in,
he could
get
her anytime
.

Chapter Fifteen

Raphael clicked off the state-of-the-art monitor in his office and tapped the intercom. “Please send Jonathan in, Angela. Thank you.”

He rose from the throne and stretched his wings behind him. So busy these days. So many people to help.
He
needed help. If Jonathan could gain the confidence he needed, he’d be the perfect assistant.

Raphael’s feathers, softer than any bird’s down, whispered along his hands. Such magnificent appendages. Great for convincing non-believers he was who he said he was, but more importantly, inspiring awe in those who had duties to fulfill.

The door to his inner sanctum opened and Jonathan, all four-feet-ten-inches of him, entered. Poor guy had never had any self-confidence from the moment of his birth. Born among a family of six-footers, Jonathan had been the brunt of many jokes. Good-natured or not, they’d taken their toll on him. But Jonathan had never lost the goodness in his soul because of it.

Raphael had had his eye on him ever since Jonathan had rescued one of his childhood tormenters from a rabid dog by finding the small opening that was the only other way into the room and distracting the animal so the bully could escape.

What neither Jonathan nor the bully had appreciated was that he’d been the only one who could have fit through that opening. His sized had served the Purpose for which it’d been bestowed.

“
Sir?” Jonathan crumpled his hat between his fingers.

“
Jonathan, please, take a seat.” Raphael levitated one of the sky blue chairs. He’d decided to employ his powers during this interview because Jonathan needed to feel valued.

“
Thank you, sir.” Jonathan hopped onto the chair and rubbed at the telltale twitch by his eye before settling the mangled hat in his lap, the fingers of one hand tapping the brim while Raphael floated the chair over to the desk.

“
Would you like something to drink?” Raphael materialized a glass of the lemonade he knew Jonathan was fond of. That should ease some of Jonathan’s worries.

“
Thank you, sir.”

Raphael pretended not to notice the shaking in the initiate’s hand as he took the glass. “So, Jonathan, how are Todd and Jolie doing? Any movement toward the final goal?”

Jonathan told him about Todd clearing out the attic—at last!—of Michael and Barbara’s reception of Jolie—not quite what Raphael would have hoped for from those two, but, still, understandable given their love for Todd and everything they’d done for him—and the upcoming picnic.

“
So, Todd is moving on. I’m glad to hear that. What about Jolie?” Raphael leaned against the edge of his marble desk rather than take the seat behind it. The throne was intimidating, though it did have its purposes.

“
Jolie, sir?” Jonathan stopped sipping his drink, his eyes wide above the rim of the glass. The twitch, which had slowed during the recitation of events, now kicked back into gear.

“
Yes. Has she made any strides in overcoming her feelings of inadequacy?”

“
Strides, sir?”

“
Yes, strides. You’ve seen Todd grow and emerge from his despair. Jolie needs to do the same.” Raphael waved his hand and Jolie’s chart floated from the file drawer. “Her mother never appreciated her. Of course, the poor woman had her own demons to deal with, but still, she did damage all the same. Jolie needs to heal.”